Time for Andrew (13 page)

"Twenty-four little hours," I begged, "that's all I'm asking."

"I can't risk it."

I stared at Andrew, shocked to see a tear run down his cheek. Wiping his face with his pajama sleeve, he said, "Don't you see? I don't dare jump. If I'm doomed to die in 1910, I'll drown in the river, I know I will."

A gust of wind blew the candle out. In the sudden darkness, I heard Andrew run downstairs. By the time I reached the top of the steps, he was gone.

The next morning, Hannah found me in the porch swing, rocking glumly back and forth.

"I was waiting for you in the grove," she said. "Don't you want to play marbles?"

I shook my head. What was the use? In a few hours, they'd be fishing my body out of the river. "Theo and I are going somewhere in a little while," I told her.

She sank down beside me and fanned herself with an old
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"Whew. Only ten o'clock, and already it's as hot as an oven out here."

I glanced at Hannah sitting there so innocently. It would break her heart to lose me, she'd said so herself. If I told her the truth, maybe she wouldn't be so sad when I drowned. She'd know her true brother was alive and well in another time.

Clearing my throat to get her attention, I said, "I really am a different boy."

Hannah took my confession as a joke. "At first you acted so strange I truly found myself wondering about you. But not anymore—every day you act more and more like your old self."

"You don't understand," I said. "Let me finish—"

Without giving me a chance to explain, Hannah got to her feet and headed toward the door. "No more jokes, Andrew. I have to help Mama with the canning." Hannah ran her hands through her hair, lifting its weight off the back of her neck. "Drat those peaches. Why can't they wait till cool weather to ripen?"

The screen door slammed shut, leaving me with a mouthful of revelations. Not that it mattered—she wouldn't have believed me anyway. Picking up
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I fanned myself vigorously, but it didn't do a speck of good. The air was just as hot as ever.

All too soon, Theo came looking for me. "It's after eleven. Time to go, Andrew."

Reluctantly, I laid the magazine aside and followed him down the porch steps. Halfway across the lawn, Buster spotted us. When Theo saw him, he whistled and the dog dashed toward us, barking and wagging his tail, glad to be included on an outing. He actually nuzzled my hand and grinned at me. In a way it scared me more to see him getting so friendly. Who did he think I was?

Before I plunged downhill behind Theo and the dog, I looked back at the house. Its windows sparkled like fire in the sunlight. Hannah waved from the back porch. As I raised my hand, the scene quivered. Andrew appeared in his sister's place. He gazed at me, his face solemn. "Good luck, Drew," he called.

Ahead of me, Theo yelled, "Hurry, it's almost noon."

Andrew vanished. The porch was empty. The dish towel Hannah had been holding hung on the railing, a bright splash of color.

At the bottom of the hill, Theo waited impatiently.
Nearby, Buster snuffled through the bushes, looking for rabbits. Crows cawed in the woods, jays scolded. Sunlight dappled the bushes and trees. I smelled honeysuckle and damp earth.

Light-headed, I ran down the path, ducking branches, stumbling on roots, skidding on loose stones. I reached Theo's side, weak-kneed and gasping for breath.

Theo stared at me. "You've got the oddest look on your face, Andrew."

I forced myself to breathe normally. My heart slowed, my knees stopped shaking. "What do you mean?"

He studied my features for a few seconds, concentrating so hard his forehead wrinkled. "You're just plain Andrew now," he said, "but a minute ago, when you came running down the hill, you looked different."

As perplexed as Theo, I pressed my hands against the sides of my head and tried to keep my identity from slipping away. Was I Drew or Andrew? I wasn't sure anymore. His time and mine flickered back and forth like images in an optical illusion.

Theo touched my arm. "Come on, Andrew. Edward will think we're not coming."

Silently, I followed him down the path into the woods. The mossy ground was cool under my bare feet, but even in the dense green shade, the heat clung as close as a second skin. The air was heavy with humidity. Clouds of gnats circled my head. Mosquitoes whined in my ears and bit right through my clothes.

We walked single file, slowly, silently, swatting insects and ducking low branches. Buster first, then Theo, then me. And Andrew — I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see him close behind, treading on my heels, merging his personality with mine, becoming part of me. I stumbled and tripped, bushes lashed my face, my head ached as if someone were drilling a hole through my temple.

Suddenly, we were out of the woods. The trestle was just ahead, a high iron bridge spanning the river, at least twenty feet above the water. I couldn't imagine jumping from something that high and living to tell about it.

"Come on, Andrew." Theo was already halfway up the embankment, looking back at me. Above him, Edward stood silently, arms folded across his chest, waiting for us.

It was a steep climb, made treacherous by cinders, loose stones, and broken glass. By the time I reached the top, I was out of breath.

"So you showed up after all," Edward said. "I didn't think you'd have the intestinal fortitude."

I looked to the right and to the left. Shimmering in the heat, the tracks vanished into the woods on either side of the trestle. "What if a train comes?"

"You know as well as I do there's only two a day," Edward said. "One in the morning and one in the evening."

"That's right," I mumbled, "I forgot."

Gripping my shoulder, Edward said, "Let's go. We're wasting time."

Utterly fearless, Theo ran ahead, jumping from tie to tie as if he didn't notice the empty spaces between them. Buster followed a little more cautiously, head down, watching his step.

Weak-kneed with terror, I stepped onto the trestle. There was no railing, nothing to keep me from falling. At any minute, I expected to slip between the ties and plunge into the river.

In the middle, Edward leaned over and spit. "This is just
about where Emmet Burden drowned. He landed on that rock."

We all stared at the boulder just below the water's surface. Sparkling in the sunlight, the river swept over its broad back.

"I was there when they found him," Edward said. "Have you ever seen a body that's been in the water for a week? The fish eat your eyes, they chew your nose off, they bite your fingers and toes and take chunks out of your skin. Emmet looked like swiss cheese."

I gagged, but Theo said, "Andrew knows where to jump. Lester Jones showed him."

"I've never been on this bridge," I said, but even as I spoke I wasn't sure. Doubts filled my head. Maybe Theo was right, maybe I'd just forgotten. Clenching my teeth, I swallowed hard. No, no, it was Andrew who'd been here before, not me. It was Andrew who'd said he'd jump, Andrew who should be here now. Not me, not me, not me.

"What are you talking about?" Theo asked. "Don't you remember
anything?
"

The river's dull roar filled my ears, my forehead pounded with heat, the sharp smell of creosote burned my nostrils. Afraid to sit, afraid to stand, afraid to move, I stared down at the water. Fate demanded a death. Mine or Andrew's—what difference did it make?

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

I looked at Edward. The sun was behind him, shining in my eyes. He was a dark shape blocking the light.

"You little braggart," he said. "Lies, lies, lies—I knew you wouldn't jump."

I backed away, but Edward came closer. "Show me how brave you are."

He pushed me just hard enough to make me stagger.

Under my feet, the railroad tie was hot, splintery, oozing tar, but I clung to it with my bare toes.

"You're making a big mistake," I whispered. "I'm not Andrew, I'm Drew."

The sound of the river drowned my words. Neither Theo nor Edward heard me.

"Hit him," Theo yelled at me. "Knock him in the water!"

"Stay out of this," Edward shouted.

"Nyah, nyah, nyah—you can't get me!" Theo stuck out his tongue and danced away from his cousin.

Red-faced with anger, Edward lunged at Theo. Maybe the sun was in his eyes, maybe he was too mad to be careful, but he lost his balance. Waving his arms wildly, he reached for me, missed, and fell off the trestle. Down, down, down he plummeted, his face turned up to us, his mouth open in a silent scream.

The water closed over Edward so quickly it took a moment for me to realize he'd actually fallen. One second he was standing beside me. The next second he was gone. How had it happened so fast?

Far below, the river slid past, its skin unbroken, so brown with mud I saw my shadow on its surface. What had Andrew and I done? We were the guilty ones, not Edward. He wasn't meant to die.

Suddenly, Edward's head emerged from the water. He waved his arms, cried out, struggled against the current, sank again.

"Edward can't swim worth shucks," Theo whispered. "If you don't help him, he'll drown for sure." Eyes blank with fear, he stared at me, waiting for me to act. I was his big brother, I knew everything, surely I wasn't going to stand by and let this happen.

Dizzy with fear, I asked myself what Andrew would do.
Stories from
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flashed through my mind. Like his hero Frank Merriwell, Andrew wouldn't hesitate. No matter how much he detested his cousin, he'd jump into the river and save him.

Well, I'd taken Andrew's place, hadn't I? I had no choice but to do what he'd do. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and leapt off the trestle.

I fell through the air, faster and faster, and hit the water feet first. Down, down I plunged, straight to the mud at the bottom. The river was dark and cold. Strong currents tugged at my legs. The branches of a sunken tree snagged my shirt and held me with bony fingers. My heart pounded, my lungs ached. Kicking hard, I pulled free and swam up toward the light.

When I surfaced, I saw Edward several yards away, bobbing along, still struggling. I swam toward him, but he sank before I reached him. Taking a deep breath, I dove after him, but the water was so murky I couldn't even see my own hand.

I rose again. No sign of Edward this time. The river roared in my ears and foamed around me, smelling of decay. Too tired to fight it, I let the current carry me until I spotted Edward again. I floundered toward him and grabbed his shirt. Getting a good grip on his shoulder, I used the last of my strength to tow him to a tree trunk lodged between a couple of rocks.

Exhausted, we clung to the branches. Above the noise of the water, I heard Edward gasping for breath. His lips were
purple with cold, his face was dead white. Like me, he was shivering.

From the trestle, Theo shouted, "I'm coming, Andrew. Wait right there!"

"Don't jump!" I yelled. "Climb down the rocks."

A snort from Edward drew my attention back to him. "Poor little Andrew—did you fall in the cold, cold water too?" His voice was loaded with sarcasm.

"Didn't you see me jump?"

Edward narrowed his eyes, increasing his resemblance to a rat. "Bull feathers. You fell, just like I did."

I shook my head. "I thought you were drowning, I was trying to save you."

"Don't make me laugh. I wasn't in any danger."

Stunned by his ingratitude, I watched Edward haul himself onto the rocks. Water streamed from his shirt and trousers. Getting to his feet, he said, "Even if I had been, I doubt a little pantywaist like you could have helped matters."

Turning his back, he started to walk away.

An anger I didn't know I possessed raged through me. Scrambling after Edward, I grabbed his arm and made him face me. "How dare you be so ungrateful?" I shouted. "I risked my life to save you! A true gent would at least say thank you!"

I was as astonished as Edward. Had I spoken? Or had Andrew? Part of me wanted to apologize, take the words back, turn and run, but the other part was in control. Clenching my fists, I raised them the way John had taught me.

Edward backed away. I stepped closer, dukes up, ready to defend myself.

"You lay a hand on me and 111 tell my father," Edward said.

Sure it was a trick, I danced around him on my toes, eager to try one of John's punches. I wanted to make Edward's nose bleed, I wanted to give him a black eye, I wanted to knock him flat.

"I'll say you pushed me off the bridge," Edward yelled. "I'll say you almost made me drown."

I kept my guard up. Edward wasn't going to distract me with empty threats. I was Andrew, boy champion. I'd make Theo proud of me. I'd make Hannah glow with admiration. I'd show them all—even John. Like Frank Merriwell, I'd been pushed far enough.

Suddenly, Edward bent down, picked up a handful of river sand, and hurled it in my eyes. Half-blinded, I flung myself at him. We rolled on the ground, grappling and yelling. While we struggled, Buster ran around us, barking. I hoped he was on my side, but I couldn't be sure. For all I knew he'd decide to take a chunk out of me.

As things turned out, it wasn't Buster who bit me—it was Edward. When I felt his teeth sink into my shoulder, I hauled off and punched him so hard I thought I'd broken my hand.

That was all it took. Squirming away from me, Edward scrambled to his feet. His nose spouted blood. "Your father will hear about this," he hollered.

With Buster snarling and snapping at his heels, Edward plunged into the woods. Dazed, I sat on the ground and listened to him crash through the underbrush.

By the time Buster came back, Theo had made his way down from the trestle. Crouching beside me, he touched my left eye reverently. "You're going to have a beaut of a shiner."

I stared at my fists in disbelief. Were they mine or Andrew's? The hot sun beat down on my head, the coarse grass scratched the back of my legs. Nearby, the river rumbled and droned. Crows cried in the woods. I'd hit Edward, I'd made him cry and snivel and threaten to tell, I'd chased him away. Me—Drew. Or me—Andrew?